Wesley Vancaskerkin's page

"I'll scout ahead. I haven't had a chance to use my polymorph spells in a while," Wesley says. "Watch my things."

He strips out of his robes and places his spellbook atop it, keeping care not to get it wet. He wades into the water, then casts a spell, his body quickly transforming into the sleek form of a shark! He swims away, returning about a minute later. His body changes back to human as the spell ends and he emerges from the water, clad in just his loincloth.

"This lake is massive," the wizard says. "There's a stone platform on the southern bank with a door made out of an alloy of red skymetal called djezet. The lake continues west, further than I could see. There may be more to explore down that way, but we'd need to take the boats, as my magic won't last long enough to get me there."

The torch ignites, but nothing seems to happen. Wesley points to the strange gray flame in the room's central firepit. "Maybe we need to use that fire instead?"

Wesley wipes at his brow. "I am not certain, but the torch in the sconce over there is radiating faint transmutation magic. Perhaps lighting it might cause a change in the room?"

"So, how are you finding this adventure?" She asks, casting about for a topic of conversation that will distract from the faint splashing sound she can hear. "I can't decide if this is exactly what I'd expect from the Runelord of Lust or whether I'm disappointed by the lack of succubi." She gives him a gentle nudge in the side. "You're probably more disappointed than I am, right?"

Wesley scoffs. "I try to keep myself above such desires of the flesh. I'm more disappointed at the lack of treasure we've found so far. The runelords were supposed to be extraordinarily wealthy! Where is that wealth, hmm? Perhaps Sorshen spent it all on tawdry statues of herself to feed her ego! Bah!"

Charlotte deduces that the body is in some sort of suspended animation, neither dead nor alive. Isabel confirms that the woman is Runelord Sorshen herself, or at least a perfect facsimile of her!

"A clone," Wesley surmises. "If the real Sorshen were to die, her soul would be transferred to this body, forestalling its departure to the Boneyard. So that means, somewhere, Sorshen still lives..."

Wesley studies the shaft with magically enhanced senses. "There are several dwoemers at work here--darkness, silence, feather fall. Simply stepping into the shaft should be safe enough, though it will be an unnerving descent. Getting back up, though, may prove more difficult. Perhaps some rope to facilitate our exit?"

"We're below the water level now," Wesley says. "Do you remember that door near the devils that had seawater nearby? I wonder if there's not an underwater exit through there. Perhaps some ancient magic keeps the water at bay. It might be worth exploring to see if it's near the wreck the ghoul speaks of."

Reflex: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 271d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Wesley takes a few rat bites but emerges mostly none the worse for wear. He backpedals out of reach of the rats before casting a spell, sending tendrils of darkness from his fingertips to strike the rats and Lord Baz.

Grim Tendrils (2nd): 4d4 ⇒ (4, 1, 3, 3) = 11
Fort Rats, Baz: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 51d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

The tendrils completely annihilate the rats, causing them to vanish! They go on to claw at Baz, leaving bleeding wounds behind.

"I believe it's transmutation magic, actually," Wesley says. "Curious. I wonder if the power might enhance those who choose correctly?"

Electric Arc: 2d4 + 4 ⇒ (3, 3) + 4 = 101d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Wesley zaps the lemure, then Fallende and Isabel finish it off with their weapon strikes. As it collapses into an inert blob of flesh, Wesley clicks his tongue. "It's unlikely these cretins were just lurking here on their own. It is likely more powerful devils are nearby. We should be cautious."

"I can do it, with a few days' time," Wesley says. "A simple enough matter."

The woman that the statue depicts as an expression of fierce anger on her face. Wesley steps up beside Fallende knowingly. "That's Alaznist, the Runelord of Wrath," he explains. "In the days of Thassilon, this whole area belonged to her domain of Bakrakhan. Some historians believe the Irespan once stretched all the way out to Rivenrake Island, where Hollow Mountain stands. It makes sense that we'd find art depicting her here in one of the Irespan's pilings."

"It would seem to be Zuuga's bugs, yes," Wesley says. While Charlotte is tending to Fallende, the wizard pokes about the room. Aside from the regular hall exiting to the east, he uncovers a secret door leading south. "Which way shall we go?"

The mitflit chatters to Wesley, who translates. "Negotiating with King Zuuga might be hard. He's apparently rather insane. The other gremlins generally leave him alone and occasionally bring him food."

The mitflit whimpers and babbles in Undercommon after Charlotte wakes him. Wesley glares down at the gremlin and responds in the same language. After a bit of back and forth, the wizard turns towards the others.

"The mitflit says he is part of a larger tribe that dwells on the next level down. He is sick and they were annoyed by his excessive sneezing, so they banished him to guard duty. The gremlins have been here for about a year. Their leader is named King Zuuga. There are many monstrous vermin that they keep as guards and pets."

Wesley shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me. Looks like she has some journals here. We could just read them and save us the trouble."

Wesley clucks his tongue. "So unreasonable." He reaches out to enhance Fallende's sword.

Magic weapon on Fallende's sword.

Wesley taps his foot as he listens to his companions banter. He's ready to move on, but not quite rude enough to urge them to cut the chatter. He brings the words of his spells to his mind as he follows behind them, wondering when they're going to find any treasures of actual value, instead of the few trinkets the Tower Girls have had so far.

Wesley gives Charlotte a jealous look when Fallende gives the oracle the Shard of Pride. However, his jealousy is short-lived as Sheila explains that they will be hunting down all of the other parts of the Shattered Star! His eyes twinkle as the greedy side of the wizard begins to awaken. He always wanted to be a runelord... And what better way to accomplish that goal than by securing one of the most powerful artifacts of ancient Thassilon?

"Let's do this," Wesley says excitedly.

"You son of a b@%~#! I'm in!"

"It's not your fault. You were charmed," Wesley says to Fallende. His eyes light up when he sees the coppery shard in the elf's hands. "Now that is a prize worth fighting for." He seems to be resisting the urge to try to take the shard for himself.

He turns to Natalya. "Should we rouse her and question her, or just bring her with us back to the Lodge?"

Wesley sighs. "She's family, but my family's always been pretty shit. Do what you have to do." He extends the reach of his magic to enhance Isabel's weapon.

Reach Spell to cast magic weapon on Isabel's morningstar. It is a +1 striking weapon for 1 minute.

The remaining stirges fall, releasing their grasp on Isabel and Wesley. Wesley groans and wobbles a bit unsteadily, crouching to avoid falling from the rafters. "Ugh, that was horrible. We should probably take a few minutes before we continue."

Electric Arc: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 151d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Wesley creates an arc of lightning between the two remaining goblins. One goes down, while the other evades the blast!

Underworld Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Wesley grimaces. "Yeah, I've heard plenty about Fenster the Blight. I wish I hadn't. He's about as unsavory as denizens of Underbridge get. Fenster is a truly vile wretch, a carrier of several diseases who hires himself out for any foul job that might come his way. In the past, he’s worked as a garbage scavenger, a goblin baiter, an alchemy test subject, and a disposer of bodies. We'd do best to keep our distance as we talk to him."

Underworld Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Wesley turns to the other women present. "I know the Amazing Zograthy. He works as a sort of middle-man between Sczarni and outsiders, in exchange for gold, of course. The Sczarni aren't the most dangerous or powerful of the city’s criminal organizations, but they are the most visible. Washer's Row is primarily a front for one of the larger Sczarni gangs, the Washside Wringers. We'd best stay on our toes if we're headed there."

Wesley creates another burst of lightning, zapping the remaining gremlin!

Electric Arc: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 61d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Fallende lands a hit, leaving the creature badly hurt...

Bel and Lottie are still up.

Will: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 261d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

"Ah! What did you do?" Wesley grumbles. He steps back, stubbing his toe on the chair as the unluck aura affects him. He casts a spell, causing electricity to arc between the two gremlins.

Electric Arc: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Trailing just a short ways behind the two human women is a young man with short, brown hair. He wears fine green robes trimmed in gold, and clutches a large spellbook under his arm. Catching the elf's less-than-kind words, he frowns.

"Mademoiselle, I can assume you have had unpleasant interactions with humans in the past. I do hope you'd be willing to give us the benefit of the doubt and not judge us before even knowing us," he says in Elven. "I've had plenty of that already my entire life. Thank you."

He nods to Fallende before turning to the other women. "Wesley Vancaskerkin. Charmed." He then presents his invitation to the lodge staff.